How could he have dreamed of returning to Prive Drive for Christmas? Sirius's delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more, than they would have done at Hogwarts.*
That evening at dinner, Harry found himself seated between Hermione, who was hotly debating elf rights with Lupin (a conversation Harry wanted no part of) and Mrs. Weasley, who was still teary and beside herself at Percy's returned gift, and she had taken to viciously stabbing her turkey as if it was going to attack her.
Harry, however, nursed a sense of relief. He felt happier than he had in days, he was now sure he wasn't the weapon. But he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. What was? And if his brief forays into Voldemort's mind weren't a weapon, what were they? Was he supposed to be figuring this out? Another surge of anger at Dumbledore swept over him.
Lupin must have noticed Harry's quietness during dinner, because soon after everyone had finished he tapped Harry on the shoulder and beckoned to Sirius nearby.
"I want to show you two something," he said quietly. "Will you come with me for a minute?"
Harry glanced at Sirius before followed Lupin up the stairs, past the room that Harry and Ron were sharing, to the room with the desk that had previously been inhabited by a boggart. It was another dark, musty room, with grey silk wallpaper lining the walls and red velvet curtains hanging behind the sofa. Harry sat down between Lupin and Sirius, slightly bewildered.
"I couldn't think of a good Christmas present�" Lupin started.
"But those Defense Against the Dark Arts books were great!" Harry said. "I don't need anything else." Harry had already started planning the next few D.A. lessons.
"Oh," Lupin said quietly. "You'll enjoy this. You and Sirius both." He took a small packet of parchment out of his pocket and began unfolding what looked like a stack of letters. "When we were in fifth year�"
"Oh no!" Sirius groaned, his eyes widening. Lupin nodded, smiling faintly.
He began again. "When we were in fifth year, our Heads of House decided to have us write letters to ourselves in the future. They were supposed to be mailed out..." he trailed off, grinning sheepishly. "But apparently they weren't, because I found a stack in McGonagall's office two years ago while I was working at Hogwarts."
Sirius smiled, his lined face suddenly looking younger. "I'm not sure if I want to see this!"
Lupin shrugged. "I haven't read them yet. I've got ours and a few others."
Harry's breath quickened. By "a few others," what exactly did Lupin mean? But before he could ask, Lupin pulled the first letter from the stack.
"Oh no," Sirius said, and even Harry recognized his cramped handwriting. Lupin cleared his throat and began reading aloud.
1975
Dear Future Sirius,
We're supposed to write letters to our future selves. McGonagall says it's a tradition. She says she's going to send it to us by owl when we're older, but who knows what will happen to this precious roll of parchment in between, so it's not like I'm going to dish out my darkest secrets or anything. Please note that I'm only really writing this because she keeps walking around the room, giving us that hawk-look that would terrify even Merlin out of his skinniest underpants. And also because Prongs decided to be a boring prat and I think he is actually taking this seriously. He's got half a page already.
Oh. He thinks Evans is watching him. Of course.
I've just looked over at Moony's and it looks like he's decided to give himself some advice. Moony always knows what to do, so, without further ado, some things I've learned over the five years of my extensive, enriching Hogwarts career:
Some Serious Advice From A 15 Year Old Sirius
1) If you are reading this now as a married man, I pity you. It's time to rethink your life. You're still young, so act like it! You've got women lining up to get a ride on that motorcycle of yours, so take advantage. You can live vicariously through Prongs and Evans, little love-doves that they are, because let's face it, he'll win her over some day soon. But you, my friend, better still be playing the field.
2) Toujours Pur is a load of rubbish. Find yourself a new family and give that little dishrag Regulus a nice slap from your 15-year old self. Kreacher, too. I'd like to stick his head on the wall any day now. Give him as much trouble as humanly and magically possible.
3) If in doubt, ask Moony. He'll know the answer.
4) That Permanent Sticking Charm still better be on your walls. Leave your mark and start planning your escape now! They can burn you off the family tree, but they can't forget you completely.
5) Okay, about number 1. Don't ever admit that you're jealous of Prongs and Evans. You'll never hear the end of it, even when you're forty and gray.
Well, so much for not writing secrets.
6) Keep your friends close. They're better than your dung-lump of a family.
7) Elvendork is a great name. It's unisex, you can use it for a boy or girl!
8) If you haven't already, figure out how to lock Snivellus in that Vanishing Cabinet. The piece of dragon dung deserves it.
Padfoot
Mischief managed.
"Elvendork?" Harry asked, sure he'd missed something.
Sirius shook his head. "Fake name, you don't want to know."
"You were jealous?" Lupin asked incredulously, turning to Harry. "We would have never known."
Sirius shrugged, smiling a sad smile. "You know how it was. Once he was off in Lily-land, there was no turning back. And where did that leave me?"
Harry was having some trouble imagining his parents as young lovers, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to. Lupin noticed the conflicting emotions flickering across his face, because he set down the letter. "Let's see what's on the next one."
*Quoted from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, "Christmas on the Closed Ward."
Love, Hogwarts by Amortentia Black
Chapter Notes: A 15-year old Sirius gives himself some advice for the future.